Heather recognized the driver. In the moonlight she could make out Jake McCord’s handsome features. She could also see the figure of a man lying prone in the rear of the buckboard. Sloan?

Her heart leapt to her throat, while her hand reached out to clutch Wolf’s arm. “Dear God, he’s not…?”

“No,” Jake answered quickly as he jumped down from the seat. “He’s fine. Just had a bit too much to drink, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t reply. Instead she watched mutely as Jake pulled his brother to his feet and caught him around the waist.

Shaking his head groggily, Sloan roused enough to drape an arm around the other man’s shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath but allowed Jake to support him up the steps to the back porch.

When they passed her, Heather went rigid as she caught the scent of cheap perfume mingled with the stench of whiskey. Sloan had been with a woman, she could smell it. She remembered the odor from her own visit to the saloon and Della Perkins.

The sudden slicing pain low in her stomach was like the twist of a knife.

In the kitchen doorway, Jake paused with his burden to call over his shoulder, “Should I put him to bed?”

She felt Wolf’s dark gaze on her, yet she forced a hoarse reply. “Yes, please, I would appreciate it. On second thought, would you put him in the guest bedroom? Janna is asleep in his room and the beds aren’t set up in the other rooms.”

When she glanced apologetically at Wolf, he nodded in agreement. “You want me to bunk at Jake’s place for the rest of the night? Looks like you two have some things to work out.”

Heather shook her head, her throat tight with unshed tears. “You don’t have to leave. Indeed, I wish you would stay. I can make up one of the spare beds.”

“There’s no need to go to so much trouble. I’ll bed down on the floor.”

“The study has a comfortable couch.”

“Even better.” His mouth curved in a smile of sympathy. “I’ll wait in the kitchen till you get Sloan settled.”

She fabricated her own smile to hide her mortification and heartache and went inside. Her pride was fiercely wounded, yet her heart was suffering more. Sloan had heard her declaration of love and gone straight to the bed of another woman.

Jealousy and humiliation scored her. He had been with a prostitute, there was no other polite term for it. She might have been reared a lady and sheltered from the seamier sides of life, but she knew well enough what men sought from saloon women. She just hadn’t expected it of Sloan.